The Angel of Doubt
by Temjin-On
Summary: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is a wholly remarkable book, and it may just be the one thing that can really help stop the Angels. Too bad Shinji Ikari is in over his head. Crossover.
1. Chapter One

**The Angel of Doubt**

**Chapter One**

Far off in a rather unfashionable part of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small, insignificant Sun. And orbiting this Sun is an extremely insignificant blue-green planet that is home to some of the most primitive life forms ever conceived. Or so goes the widely held belief of a good portion of the galaxy. But it should be noticed that the very same portion of the Galaxy previously touched upon is generally so dim-witted themselves that their argument isn't important. It is not known if anyone remains alive that can attest to the true nature of the insignificant blue-green planet known as Earth, because so little information exists about it and none of the life forms on Earth save perhaps the dolphins and mice know that there is in fact life outside of their own little planet. And they certainly don't know about the fine art that is intergalactic hitchhiking, let alone the wholly remarkable book known as _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_. The aforementioned book is perhaps the best selling book in the history of the Universe, and in fact has surpassed the _Encyclopedia Galactica_ as the standard repository for all knowledge in the Universe for two reasons. One is that it is cheaper and considerably smaller than the _Encyclopedia Galactia_ and the other is that it has the words DON'T PANIC written in large, friendly letters on the cover. Yes, if you wish to see the galaxy for less than ten Altarian dollars a day, _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ is the only book that can help you achieve this. And in the ever inconstant and jumbled place that is the Universe, a towel and The Guide may be the only things that can save you from some horrible type of doom that is so mind-numbingly brutal that new adjectives and sensations are brought forth to describe the pain one would endure. Not to mention, that this very book has been known to cause many profound changes in it's history...

Tokyo-3 is most often described by people in several terms, such as; _Technological Wonder_, _Fortress City_, _Humanity's Last Stronghold _and sometimes _Hell_ or _The Magical Disappearing City_. It was also once suggested that Tokyo-3 be called _The City of Angels _in it's tour guide brochures, but the person who suggested this was quickly silenced by a sniper's bullet. Coincidently, it should be noted that the Los Angeles SWAT team was attending a JSSDF-sponsored convention outlining all sorts of new and effective ways of breaking into and forcibly taking highly defended underground installations when this person was silenced. Most building contractors on the payroll of the United Nations would agree a more apt description for the city would be _Gold Mine_ or _Early Retirement_. In fact, it should be noted that with very few exceptions, never in the history of the Universe have construction workers made so much money so quickly than they have in Tokyo-3. In fact, the contractors and crews that work to rebuild the seemingly endlessly half-destroyed city have gone from the normal hard working, blue collar stereotype of pickup trucks and dive bars to driving luxury cars and splurging on things such as nose jobs and mistresses.

But putting all that aside, the city of Tokyo-3 is all in all isn't that bad of a place to live. In fact, if the circumstances where better, it's possible that such a technologically advanced city would be incredibly desirable to live in, and some would argue it already is now. That is, if you can overlook the attacking giants called Angels, the endless collateral damage on the part of the giant robots known as Evangelions that while tasked with protecting humanity, still seem to do a good deal of harm to the places humanity like to call home and last but not least the dealings of a shady organization that runs the city. NERV is in place to save mankind, yet, it echoes conspiracy theories and constantly feeds misinformation to the public for much the same reason most organizations feed misinformation to the press and public, to either cover up for some really dark and terrible secrets, or to simply make it seem like they are hiding something awful so as to make a normally mundane operation more exciting. But for all their misinformation and their shadowy conspiracies real or imagined, there really was only one person working for NERV that really knew what loomed on the horizon when in the course of a single afternoon, a wholly remarkable book feel into the hands of a boy who was regarded by those around him as generally the most depressed being ever. (It should be noted that these people couldn't be farther from the truth if the truth was a gigantic brick wall painted pink with little yellow daisies on it that they had just walked into.)

Shinji Ikari, Third Child and pilot of Evangelion Unit-01, and to some, the most depressed being ever, was apathetic upon his departure from class. Today, he had managed to shake off his two best friends, and their raging hormones, to have a quiet afternoon of what can only be described as _Brooding to Beethoven_. While normally this would make him happy, his thoughts were drifting to subjects he dreaded. "I suppose I'll have to head home soon, cook dinner and bag Misato's empties." Hanging his head in a sigh, Shinji turned on the balls of his heels to leave the school grounds and head for home. Home was a relatively new concept to Shinji. He was never homeless, per say, he just never felt like his inhabitance was what he needed. Shinji has never had a clue about what a home is, in the abstract, emotional sense. Trying to explain this feeling of belonging to him would be like trying to explain a box of crayons to a cage full of colorblind moles. In direct correlation to the abstract emotion of home is the notion of family. His mother dead, his father a bastard and the apathetic farther twigs and branches of his family tree, Shinji also lacked a true sense of family. He isn't sure if a genetically modified penguin, a guardian/borderline alcoholic/military officer and a brash and sometimes bitchy classmate/comrade in arms/possible love interest, all of no relation, make a family, but it's the closet thing he has ever had.

As he approached a small bench about halfway from his shared apartment, Shinji was struck in the head by something, which not surprisingly, caused him to stumble, fall onto the bench, and blackout for a few moments. Upon rebounding from his momentary lapse of consciousness, the first thing Shinji blurted out was what any homo sapiens would. "My head! I think something hit my head!"

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has this to say about the habits of homo sapiens_. Homo sapiens, more commonly known as humans or Earthmen, are a unremarkable, primitive race. One of their more intelligent members of the species long ago proved that they were just a step up from their closest genetic relative, the chimpanzee. (The chimpanzee is a incredibly smart animal for it's brain size, and has been proven to have been using tools to get at food before humans had even the foggiest to try.) Due to their under-evolved nature, the humanity as a species has a few quirks it has inherited. One of these seemingly unbreakable habits is the habit of constantly stating the obvious. For instance, if you encounter a human, they are more than likely going to start off by telling you about how great the weather is. The next human you come across will tell you the same thing. Don't try finding one on a pleasant day that won't tell you this, humans are incapable of not telling you how nice the weather is. Curiously enough, if a __member of the homo sapiens is injured in some way, the first thing they will do upon regaining their composure is rhetorically state what caused them harm. If you stab them, they will almost always reply with "You stabbed me!", instead of "Oh Zarquon, my zarking sides!", or some other exclamation of pain. It is unknown if a reason is ever going to be established as for why humans cannot stop stating the obvious, because Earth has reportedly been demolished to make way for a hyperspace bypass._

Shinji blinked. He could of swore he had just heard a voice explain something about stating the obvious, clear as day, but there was no one around. "We'll that's weird. I thought I heard someone talking." And the guide repeated the entry on the habits of homo sapiens, much to Shinji's surprise. "So the book is talking!" Half-way through the Guide's third repeat, Shinji slammed the book shut, to glance at the front cover. To his utmost surprise, all that he found on that cover were the words DON'T PANIC written in large, friendly letters. "Hmm, maybe I should show this to Misato..."

This is what the Guide has to say about Misato Katsuragi_. If Zaphod Beeblebrox is "the best bang since the Big One.", Misato Katsuragi has to be in the top three. In every way as skilled and exciting as Eccentrica Gallumbits, the triple breasted whore of Eroticon Six, with one less breast, Miss Katsuragi has managed to earn a spot on the Guide's list of Things to Do and See on Earth. Able to spend a week in the sack as well as do things to yours you've only read about, it's worth the trip to the backwater planet to find her. As a post script, it should be noted that Miss Katsuragi is credited with creating the incredibly divine torrent of sensations called the "Yebisu Large Mouthed Bass.", which reportedly involves the manipulation of space and time within her mouth to provide a sensation that currently has no words to describe. Trust me, you have to be there._

"Large mouthed bass?" Shinji blurted. "Misato? What?!"

"Ah yes, I believe I can help you with that, Shinji."

"Mr. Kaji?" asked Shinji. "What are you doing here."

"Finding out what happened to... Oh yes, there it is." Kaji motioned at the book-like object in Shinji's lap. "Thats what I'm looking for. Had a bit of a problem with an explosion at my favorite bar."

"Mr. Kaji, if this is your book, what is it? And why is Misato being compared to a... a... triple breasted whore?"

Kaji sighed, sitting down on the bench next to Shinji and putting an arm around his shoulder. "Shinji, what if I told you I wasn't actually from Japan, and actually from a small planet in the vicinity of Betelgeuse?"

"Excuse me?"

"Shinji, allow me to introduce myself. My real name is Ford Prefect, and I'm a field researcher for that book your holding,The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."

After a long pause, Shinji simply glanced down at this feet and mumbled, "I don't believe it, you've gone mad."

"No, actually, I haven't gone mad. I've gone mad before, you see, and this is a completely different sensation." Ford reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, torn, and ragged towel. But what struck Shinji as odd was just how disproportional the whole thing had been, seeing as the towel was much bigger than the pocket. "Well, now, what should we do about this then?"

"Do about what, Mr, Ka-, er Mr. Prefect?"

"Please, call me Ford. Mr. Prefect makes me sound completely un-cool and un-froody." Ford folded the towel up a few times and stuck it behind his head, slumping down on the bench to have a comfortable head rest. "No, we have to do something with you, Shinji. You're one of the few people to become aware of the Guide, and given the information I've gathered, that puts you in a very dangerous position, moreso than your profession as a pilot. If your father knew I know what I do, and what you will soon know too, you'd be dead."

"Sometimes, it feels like I already am dead." Shinji sighed a dejected sigh, the kind of sigh only angsty teens seem to be able to express. Then came the one thing that Shinji never expected, a punch in the gut.

"No, we'll be having none of that, you wont turn into Marvin. I won't let you." Ford reached into his other pocket and pulled out a bottle of sake and two cups. "Anyway, you need to loosen up, especially since you still have much to learn."

Shinji was doubled over in pain, so he completely missed what Ford had just said. "You hit me!"

"Obviously."

"Why?!"

"Because in the long run, you'll thank me later." Ford poured two drinks of sake, and handed one to Shinji. "Come on now, drink up. Trust me, you'll need to."

"I'm underage." Shinji protested. "Won't it stunt my growth or something?"

"That's exactly right, you're just a child. And children usually have to listen to adults, so as a responsible adult, I order you to drink that sake this instant."

Shinji, unsurprisingly, obeyed Ford's order, tossing back the sake as fast as he could, only to cough, sputter and gag at the taste. "It... it burns!"

"Lightweight!" Ford scoffed amusedly, tossing back a shot. "I'm starting you out small, on the easy, kidergarden stuff. Now, if I had a bottle of that Ol' Janx Spirit, you'd be begging for mercy!" He poured Shinji another shot and gave it to him. "Here, drink up! You're going too slow! You've still got to polish off this entire bottle before we really get down to business."

Shinji quaffed the shot down, with tears tugging at the corners of his eyes and a fire in his throat that led a burning trail down to his uneasy stomach. "I don't think I can finish a whole bottle! I'd rather eat Misato's cooking than drink anymore!"

"What? Alcohol is like mother's milk! You've just got much to learn."

"Gack!" Downing his third shot, Shinji was beginning to feel slightly less repulsed. "Why are all the people I'm surrounded by alcoholics..."

"Ask the Guide about alcohol sometime Shinji, you'd be surprised." Ford finally put the bottle aside, pausing to look at the copy of the Guide in Shinji's lap. "So, I suppose you want to know the true nature of the Earth, right? Well, the short version is Earth is not your ordinary planet, it's actually a giant computer, with every life-form on this planet as part of it's matrix. It was designed to compute the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything. We know the answer is 42, we just don't know the question."

"42?"

"Yes, 42."

"But that doesn't make any sense!"

"Regardless of that, it's the truth. Sad to say, no one has learned the question to the answer, because right before Earth was going to give the question, it was destroyed by the Vogons. Only to be rebuilt again by the Magratheans, only to be destroyed again, finally for good, me along with it."

"How is that possible, you're still alive."

"The supposed destruction of all possible Earths only serves as a genesis for the creation of countless others, which all seem to be focused and chained to this Earth. I woke up here, a completely new person years ago, only to spend a week in bed with the oh-so talented Misato Katsuragi, and become the Kaji you know, all the while researching for the Guide and trying to uncover the truth about the Angels."

"Have you found the truth?"

"No. In fact, as far as I can tell they are a random occurrence, spawned by the increasingly improbable nature of the universe." Ford paused, wrapping his towel around his neck as a sort of dingy scarf. "But I do suspect there is more than meets the eye going on at NERV."

"What? Can Evangelions transform or something?"

"No, not as much. They really don't do anything of interest. But they need better weapons, like a nice giant Kill-O-Zap or a Destruct-A-Matic beam or something, cut through the Angels quicker."

"Kill-O-Zap?"

"It's a gun, you know, like a raygun, you'd call it."

Shinji's stomach grumbled, the alcohol was starting to take full effect and his body wanted some food to help mop it up. "I should get going, go back and cook dinner. Misato is going to be upset and I don't wanna think about Asuka."

"Shinji, you can stay and shoot the breeze with me some more, Asuka and Misato have fingers, they can order takeout just like anyone else."

"But it was my turn to cook!"

"According to what I've heard, it's always your turn to cook." Ford ignored the glare, and threw his arm back around Shinji's shoulders. "Besides, you and I are going to go find a party. Or at least get you sauced before we send you back to Misato. I swear, you really have to ask her to give you a romp."

"What?"

"Shinji, in all the years I've been alive, I've had few better in the sack than Misato. She does this thing with her mouth, it's like a black hole."

"But... don't black holes destroy planets?"

"Well, let's say that black holes are like vacuum cleaners, really powerful vacuum cleaners that can swallow light itself, which is no easy task, mind you." Ford sighed wistfully, trying to fully illustrate the mental image he had to Shinji using his hands and his towel, to little success. "That makes Mistao's mighty mouth like a gigantic, industrial sized vacuum hose, engulfing, sucking, and swallowing all that it comes in contact with."

Shinji belched, a noted after effect of the alcohol he had ingested. "I'm never going to look at cleaning the same way again."

"You mean to tell me you've never even considered trying something like that with a real vacuum?" Shinji shook his head as fast as he could, only to cause his world to spin. "Hmm... Perhaps there is still hope for you yet."

"Ford? You said you could be killed for what you have found at NERV."

"I did say that, didn't I?"

"What is it you've found?"

An entirely wild fire flashed across Ford's eyes as he hopped to his feet and grabbed Shinji by the arm. "Well then, let's go see, shall we?"

(_**Elsewhere, in England**_.)

It was a cool evening, with the waves softly caressing the English countryside-turned-beach. Indeed the world was different, post-Second Impact, ironically turning a rather bland yet

charming section of Britain into a beach front that had become a tourist gold mine. Few people enjoyed the calmness, bikini-clad women and higher property values more than a man called Arthur Dent. After years of travel, he had awoken after the incident in New York to find himself lying on the beach that was now his front yard. Younger in appearance and vitality, Dent set up a business renting metal detectors to beach goers, and generally just enjoying life. He figured he missed his travels, the excitement of hitchhiking, but, with a second chance at life, he was content, his role in the history of the Earth completely forgotten. And so, life went on for Arthur Dent, who assumed he was the only survivor of Stavro Mueller Beta. In fact, he had decided most of his life had been a figment of his own imagination and thus he never was an intergalactic hitchhiker and he had never known anyone named Ford Prefect. He was, of course, wrong.

"Excuse me, sir." Arthur, whom had been enjoying a nice afternoon nap under a beach umbrella next to his rental business, looked up to see a Postman. "Are you Arthur Dent?"

"Yes, that's me."

"You're a jerk Dent; a complete kneebiter."

"Pardon me?" asked Arthur, coming out of his semi-awake, dazed state. "What did you say?"

"I said, I have a bit of urgent post to deliver to you, Mr. Dent." the Postman said, removing two large envelopes from his bag. "Special delivery, all the way from around the world, Singapore, I think."

"Who in blazes would I know in Singapore?"

"I haven't the foggiest Mr. Dent." he cleared his throat. "Regardless, since this is an off-schedule delivery, it is customary to tip your postman."

Arthur sighed and reached into his pocket. "Look, here's five quid."

"Thank you, Mr. Dent. Good day." the Postman snatched the money, handed Arthur the two large envelopes and left abruptly, obviously perturbed at the extension of his workday.

Arthur eyed the two envelopes suspiciously, first finding that they were addressed from Japan and not from Singapore as previously thought. Secondly, he looked at the return address, which simply said _C/O F.P. Kaji, Tokyo-3, Japan._ After a moment of silent contemplation on just who this Kaji fellow was anyway, Arthur bit the bullet and opened his mail. In the first envelope he found a set of test results, and in the second envelope he found a letter that read as follows;

_Arthur,_

_Come to Tokyo-3 and all will be explained over a couple pints of bitter. Don't forget your towel._

_Signed,_

_Ford Prefect._

"Ford?" Arthur asked no one in particular, "Ford is alive?" Under his feet in the sand, a muffled voice began explaining the history of the Ford Motor Company. Arthur reached down and picked up a battered old book like object. Not pausing to realize the significance of his find, he shoved it in his pocket and grabbed the nearest towel. He had a plane to catch.

--  
**Author's Notes** - Thanks for reading the opening chapter of The Angel of Doubt. I have to say this has been the project I've wanted to do the most since well, Triumvirate, I suppose. It took me a long time to piece together the loose ends that I needed to connect to make the most believable crossover I could, because without doing so, personally, I think the story would just be bunk, you know? But this is a good story, a good start. I've worked out all the little details of plot. For because, unlike most of the stories on my profile now, I have a clear definition of resolution. I know right now exactly how I am going to end this story, and that's a first for me. I know a lot of people are going to have a bit of a problem with the whole Kaji-Ford thing, but I think you'll all find it makes a lot more sense later on. Is this my return to work, and my first real attempt since I went off to college? We'll see. So you know, read and review. I'd like to get some honest opinions on things. Till next time, enjoy!


	2. Chapter Two

**The Angel of Doubt**

**Chapter Two**

"Ford, where exactly are we going?" asked Shinji, stroking his arm ever so slightly, a small, phantom pain lingering from when Ford had jerked him to his wobbly feet.

"Isn't it obvious? The Geofront."

"Ah..." Shinji coughed. "Ford, I've always wondered, why do they call it a Geofront?"

"Ask the Guide, Shinji, for it is far wiser than I."

This is what the Guide has to say on the subject of Geofronts. _A Geofront is simply a gigantic cave-like structure that has a self-contained ecosystem. The original purpose for a Geofront was reportedly to give space for underground urban expansion, curiously made for a group of exorbitantly wealthy galactic shipping tycoons who had aspirations to live as "mole people". Though the name of the creator was deemed unimportant by the Geofront's progenitor, at the time of publishing, the Magrathean in question had gone on to win an award for fjords on a coastline. As for why a Geofront is called as such, there is a rather simple explanation. Geofront means "Surprisingly spacious cave-like thing without most of the shortcomings of a cave" in a long dead dialect of Magrathean._

"You see Shinji? A perfectly sensible answer, right there in your hands!"

"If you say so..."

Shinji, who still had his sense of direction about him noticed that this was not the way he was used to go going to enter the Geofront, and because he was feeling especially brave, thanks to a little liquid courage, he voiced his opinion. "Ford... I think we're going the wrong way."

"Nonsense, you've just never been to this part of the Geofront." Ford replied, ducking into an alley, and heading down a large set of rusty stairs. "You see, we're going to a place called the Terminal Dogma."

"Terminal Dogma?"

"Yes, it's located below the Central Dogma, you know, the main part of NERV you're in the most."

"Why haven't I heard of it or seen it on any maps?"

"It's a secret place, you see. It's where NERV keeps all the things it doesn't want people to know about." Ford paused in front of a large elevator door in an old, abandoned subway station. "Ah, here we are."

"This leads into the Terminal Dogma? It's not even anywhere near NERV!"

"Shinji, I think you fail to grasp just how large your father's little operation is." Ford reached into his pocket, (or was that pocket dimension) and removed a small brick of what appeared to be yellow modeling clay. "This is the safest way into the Terminal Dogma. It has the lowest probability for us to be discovered. It'll take a little bit of time, though, this lift isn't the fastest." He formed the clay into a strip down the center of the elevator doors and wrapped his towel around his ears. "You're going to want to cover your ears, I'd think."

Shinji shoved his fingers into his ears, unfortunately, he was a couple of nanoseconds too late, as he was still met with a sound that sounded almost like a thousand people sneezing all at once. This curious sound was accompanied by a thick cloud of orange smoke that smelled faintly of lemons. His ears ringing and his lungs giving him the unpleasant sensation of having inhaled tiny pieces of glass, Shinji doubled over in a coughing fit as Ford gently slid the doors open to the elevator.

"Huh... I guess I should have told you to hold your breath, too." Ford idly noted that Shinji was still too busy hacking up his lungs to notice that Ford had gotten the desired result. "A little bit of Explode-A-Clay from the bogs of Blagulon Kappa, and you lose your senses..."

"Ack... Ford... Ah..." Shinji tried desperately to form a coherent sentence, but sadly, while he had the will, he lacked the ability. Coughing all the while, he finally hacked and spat his last, finally regaining his composure, somewhat. Well, as well as Shinji Ikari would ever be close to being properly composed.

"All done?" Shinji nodded in confirmation. "Alright then, follow me." The inside of the elevator was surprisingly lavish, for a supposed cargo elevator in an old, decrepit seemingly abandoned subway station. The elevator was adorned with finely polished mirrors and gold trim, and resembled an executive washroom more than it did a cargo elevator. It also, interestingly enough, smelled like freshly peeled peaches.

"Welcome, please state your destination." said a soft voice, which sounded a little too much like Rei's for Shinji's comfort.

"Rei?" Shinji asked dumbly.

"Yes, it's entirely possible that the First Child was the basis for this elevator's programming. It has a very primitive AI. Thankfully, it's not as insufferable as some of those lifts from Sirius Cybernetics..."

"Please state your destination." repeated the voice, a slight inflection to the otherwise monotone voice attempting to convey annoyance.

"Yes, Terminal Dogma, please."

"Voice pattern acknowledged, welcome back, Mr. Prefect."

"Right then, elevator lady, levitate me!" And with that, the elevator began its crawl down to the depths of the cave-like Geofront, towards the secretive Terminal Dogma.

**(Elsewhere...)**

London's Heathrow Airport used to be the United Kingdom's crowning hub of air travel. For the most part, it still is the a crowning hub in the same sense, except due to Second Impact, there are few people who travel due to underpopulation and the overall climate changes to all the popular places to go. It's not very fun to see the Wailing Wall when it turns out that it's covered in ten feet of snow most of the year. The terminals mostly empty, Heathrow was nevertheless kept staffed and fully prepared for the return of the populace to the skies. Today, however, they got a man with a goldfish bowl and a towel.

Striding hurriedly across the concourse, Arthur Dent tried to juggle a towel, a suitcase and a goldfish bowl containing a small yellow fish. He was actually doing rather well, and managed to make it all the way to the British Airways terminal without spilling too much water.

"Good afternoon sir, and let me thank you now for flying British Airways." Behind the counter a rather bland woman with curly brown hair and a slight accent, possibly signaling she was from someplace near France. "May I please have your ticket?"

Arthur reached into the pocket of his jacket, removing the ticket in question. "Here you are, miss, a one way ticket to Tokyo-3, Japan."

The woman looked the ticket over and snorted slightly to yourself. "Are you quite mad, Mr. Dent?"

"Um... not that I'm aware of, no." Arthur said uneasily. "Why?"

"Tokyo-3 is a battlefield for giant alien creatures and you're buying a one way ticket?"

"That's right."

"There are easier ways to kill yourself, Mr. Dent."

"Not that it is any business of yours, but I am going to see an old friend whom I haven't seen in years."

The woman sighed, punching his ticket. "Suit yourself, but if you still have that death wish, have you considered selling your organs on the black market?"

"Look, I just want to board the plane, is that so hard?"

The woman handed Arthur his ticket and smiled a sort of patronizing, yet friendly smile. "Of course, you just can't carry on the fish, sir."

"Why not?"

"It's unsanitary. Why, if we let everyone carry fish on board, the cabin would smell like low-tide!"

"But, you see, this fish, it's very special to me."

"You can't bring it with you, Mr. Dent, why not just let it go? You're going to kill yourself anyway..."

"I am NOT going to kill myself!"

"Regardless, the policy stands."

"Oh alright then, fine!" snapped Arthur. "Where's the nearest loo?"

"To your left, Mr. Dent." the woman checked her watch. "And do be quick in dispatching the little guy, eh? You've only got fifteen minutes to board the plane."

Arthur dashed swiftly to the restrooms and thrust his hand into the fishbowl, withdrawing the fish. He cupped a hand up to his ear and let the fish wriggle into his ear. Which, had anyone been around, would have struck your run of the mill human as either very strange or an interesting new sexual experience to be explored. Which isn't to say the Babel Fish hasn't allowed for all sorts of new experiences to be explored.

The Guide has this to say about the Babel Fish. _Possibly the oddest creature in the Universe, the small, yellow leech-like fish feeds off brainwave frequencies to sustain itself. Curiously, in return, the fish takes anything spoken in any language to you and translates it so that it's host understands it. And so, the Babel Fish has gone on to do a lot of good, brokering treaties, promoting understanding and a lot of other really feel good things that fans of the Babel Fish like to tell you whenever possible. They also fail to mention that most of the treaties and understanding tends to come as a postscript to a rather gruesome, costly and disastrously deadly war that the breaking down of the language barriers managed to cause. Horrendously powerful little bugger, that Babel Fish._

Arthur shook off a short shudder and just as swiftly as he came, left the restrooms and headed back to the ticket counter.

"Ah, able to let that fish sleep with the fishes?" asked the Ticket woman. "Hope you're able to sleep at night there, killer."

"How much time have I got left?" asked Arthur, placing the empty fishbowl on the ticket counter with a bang.

"You have a full twelve minutes to get to on the flight to your oblivion, Mr. Dent."

"Thank you, I'll just be on my way." Arthur noticed the woman eying the empty fishbowl with a confused expression. "Oh, and you can keep the fishbowl. I have a much nicer one at home, you see. Engraved and everything. I got it from the dolphins." Inwardly chipper at the sight of the ticket woman's bewilderment, Arthur turned on his heels and headed for his flight. "Good day!"

**Later, in the depths of the Terminal Dogma...**

The Rei-themed elevator came to a much awaited stop with a resounding thump after a two hour trip to the inky and entirely unpleasant void of the Terminal Dogma. With a simple ding, the doors retracted and Shinji and Ford took tentative steps out and into the most secret part of NERV.

"Well, here we are. Terminal Dogma." said Ford, with the faintest hint of a sense of accomplishment in his voice. "Well then, want to see it?"

"See what?"

"The giant torso with the fork stuck in it, of course!"

Shinji groaned in exasperation, feeling as if he was talking to a person with a clinical illness causing them to say stupid things. "I think you are making less sense by the minute."

Ford, however had completely ignored what Shinji had to say as he had swiftly set off in the inky darkness towards the first source of light at the end of the hall. "Did you say something Shinji?

"I said, you aren't making sense!" yelled Shinji as he attempted to catch up to Ford, finding that his legs didn't feel quite as heavy as they had a few hours before. "What giant torso?"

As the pair broke through the light at the end of the hallway, Ford whistled appreciatively, and Shinji just gasped in awe. Before them was a rather spacious room, with a gigantic crucifix in the center. Upon this crucifix was a giant white torso, which looked as if it was made out of shaving cream, with little bits hanging off the bottom, giving it the effect as if it had been cleaved in two, with the little dangely bits being tendons and intestines. Just above the little dangely bits, a long, two pronged fork-like object stuck out of the torso as if it was holding it in place for carving by some Godzilla-sized being. From the bottom of the torso dripped an orange fluid that smelled almost like, but just quite wasn't, blood, which pooled in a pond at the bottom of the crucifix.

"That giant torso." Ford removed his towel from his shoulders and wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. "That, Shinji, is what could get both of us killed."

"What is that thing?"

"Thing? What a terrible thing to say about what some believe to be the mother of humanity!"

"That's the mother of humanity?!" Shinji hollered in shock. "How is that possible?"

"Relax, Shinji. She isn't the mother of humanity. Humanity was created as a part of the biological make-up of the Earth when it was built by the Magratheans." Ford scratched his head. "Though, I was here a couple million years ago when a ship crashed full of the outcasts from the planet of Golgafrincham. So its possible they are the root of modern humanity, too."

"If that isn't the mother of humanity, what is it?"

"Lilith, the Second Angel." Noting the look of pure shock and outrage on Shinji's face, Ford chuckled. "Don't be so shocked, I told you, NERV is hiding some big secrets. Why, your own father has the fetus of the First Angel, Adam, grafted onto his hand."

Shinji, having been a pretty good sport so far, did what his body told him was the best course of action. He passed out, the sheer gravity of the situation taking a toll on his mental well being, the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. He would not have long to rest, however. Part of Ford's towel doubled as smelling salts.

"Come on, get up." Ford said as he waved his towel just under Shinji's nose.

"Huh... Ford? What happened?" He sat up and Ford helped him to his feet.

"You suffered a slight lapse in consciousness due to shock, nothing major."

"Oh... Who's he?" asked Shinji, pointing to a figure in the shadows.

"Who's who?"

"Have you come to look at the giant Vogon too?" asked a depressed, slightly metallic voice. "Positively wretched, isn't it?"

Ford dropped both his jaw and his towel in disbelief, something he was not used to being afflicted with. "It can't be! ... Marvin?!"

Slowly, the figure lumbered out of the shadows, revealing a rather normal looking robot, with a boxy rectangular body, small square head and several other boxy features rounding out his arms and legs. "Unfortunately, it is me."

"It's me, Ford! But how are you here? That seems almost too improbable, even in this universe!"

"Improbability? Don't talk to me about improbability. You aren't the one who didn't get to enjoy death."

Ford sighed. "Look, I died too. But the important thing is that I got a second chance at life."

"Ford, who is that?"

"Oh, Shinji, that's Marvin. I thought I spoke of him."

"Shinji? That blue haired girl spoke highly of you, thought I have no idea why." said Marvin, walking closer to the railing by the pool of LCL, looking up at Lilith. "Poor girl, has no clue what she is. Not that I have any sympathy."

"Marvin, what do you mean?" asked Shinji, interested in learning something about the mysterious blue haired girl. "What doesn't Rei know?"

"She's part Vogon."

"What?" yelled Ford. "You can't be saying what I think you are saying. Cause it sounded like you just said the Angels are really Vogons."

"Yes, that's exactly what I said. Not that anyone ever listens to what I have to say."

"But, how? I've never seen a Vogon that looked like that."

"Isn't it obvious? They used genetic engineering."

Ford fell to his knees and grabbed his head with both hands. "It all makes sense now, in a sick sort of way. Generally unpleasant demeanor, the fondness for destroying Earth, the orange blood... Why didn't I see it sooner?"

"Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and he's asking me rhetorical questions."

Ford looked up from his dramatic kneeling position and regarded a look of utter confusion on Shinji's face, which was becoming a quite common occurrence. "Vogons, Shinji, are bureaucratic aliens out to demolish the Earth, but I think we've been over that. Ask the Guide later if you need the full scoop."

"So, the Angels are Vogons, bent on starting Third Impact?" asked Shinji. "But... they have space ships, why even have the Angels?"

"Yes, not a lot of sense there, eh? They've used a fleet to demolish Earth twice before, why use an overly elaborate plan with massive biological constructs without a reason."

"Not that anyone asked me." muttered Marvin. "But, Earth is a computer. Check the software. But, what would I know? I've only got a brain the size of a planet."

Ford smacked his fist in his palm. "Yes! That's it! Shinji!" he turned to the boy. "You and I are going to see a terribly old man about some programming."

"Why me? Take Marvin!"

"It has to be you, my boy. It'll be fun, you know?"

"Don't I have to fight the Angels?" Shinji said, desperately seeking a way out of Ford's insanity like a rat on a sinking boat. "I'm the best pilot, after all! Misato said it herself!"

"Asuka and Rei will be more than enough to hold down the fort." Ford slapped a hand on Shinji's shoulder. "Besides, we're not even leaving the planet. So everything is going to be cool and froody. You just have to trust me."

"No good will come of this, I just know it." muttered Shinji.

"See, that's exactly why you need to come with me, you sound way too much like Marvin over there."

"It's true, even I don't want to be around me."

"But..."

"Oh, just go along with him, I know you can't possibly stand staying around me any longer. It's okay, I can't either." Marvin kicked a small bolt on the ground over the railing and into the pool of LCL below. "I can rust here away from everyone, just as you'd like."

"To be fair, Marvin, the boy doesn't know you, yet." Ford said, trying desperately to feign a sense of support. "You two could be mates, for all you know."

"No we wouldn't, We're incompatible."

"Sometimes, I feel incompatible with life." muttered Shinji as a rouge wave of depression and angst washed over him like a tsunami. "I wonder, is my life just a joke for those around me?"

"You think that's bad? Try living a life that _is _a joke."

Ford immediately grabbed Shinji by the right arm and tried to be the little boy with his finger in the dam of Shinji's whitewater depression. "Enough! You are coming with me to figure this out, and we're going to solve some of your issues!" Ford turned towards Marvin, looking at his form hunched over the railing, still observing the form of the Vogon/Angel Lilith. "Marvin, stay here. You must not be found, not until I've worked out how to not get all of us dissected by that Akagi psychopath."

"Hold down the fort, they said. Don't be seen Marvin..." Marvin spat distastefully. "We're going to leave you here with the giant Vogon and the crazy scientists, Marvin. Best of luck, that."

"Yes, that's about the size of it." sighed Ford, hauling Shinji behind him towards the Rei-esque elevator that would be their vehicle to the surface. As the pair left the Terminal Dogma, the unmistakable sound of a banjo playing a soft melody wafted eerily from the vast darkness.

**(Meanwhile, someplace over Mainland China)**

A curious side-effect of Second Impact had been the resounding leap towards supersonic air travel. _The Concorde_, once an outrageously expensive and sole joint venture between the British and the French, quickly became accepted by the rest of the world, with countries allowing the planes to land at more and more airports, mostly to expedite the travel between the farther flung parts of the world, usually for cargo and emergency support, but of course, more often than not, for the sheer ever loving hell of it. Newer planes had been built and upgraded and had inconceivably lowered the flight time between places like London and Tokyo-3 to a mere seven hours non-stop. One of the smartest things Arthur Dent did with his profits from his little beach-front tourist business was to invest it, mostly in the aeronautics industry, to great profit on his own behalf, which was half the reason he was able to afford such a trip to Japan. Arthur Dent, with his newly minted bank account, was able to afford a first class ticket on the next-generation supersonic airliner _The Cavendish_, which looked an awful lot like a banana of the same name, with wings. How this craft managed to be aerodynamically sound, let alone capable of it's almost unreal flight times, remains a mystery.

Fidgeting with his tray table, simply trying to balance his Bloody Mary and airline peanuts, Arthur Dent was a mess. The plane seemed to be flying through an unusually heavy rainstorm, which was mostly snow, due to the extremely high altitude. Directly next to him was a young man in his early twenties with a cheerful disposition about him.

"Bloody rain!" snapped Arthur, his peanuts now airborne. "How the devil is it raining this high up, anyway?"

"You don't like the rain?" asked the cheerful man sitting next to him. "You sound like my father. For some reason, the rain always followed him around."

"Really now?" grunted Arthur, trying furiously to pick a couple of stray peanuts out of his hair.

"Oh yeah! It was always raining when I was a kid, all the time." The man let out a long, contented sigh. "Dad drove a lorry, you see. So when he wasn't home, the sun shined, and all that water gave Mum the best yard in the city. She won loads of awards for it."

"Did you say he was a lorry driver?" the man nodded. "I think I met your father back in the eighties. I suggested he show his log book to people to prove that it always rained on him. How did that work out for him?"

"How did that work out? Dad made a mint because of you!" The man extended his hand. "My name is Jeremy McKenna, and I'd just like to thank you, Mister..."

"Dent." said Arthur, clasping Jeremy's hand and shaking it. "Arthur Dent."

"Thank you, Mr. Dent. You have no idea how you changed my father's life. Why, before, he was always depressed about the rain, making him a bitter man. After the media found out about him and dubbed him a Rain God, well, resorts started paying him lots of money to never travel there."

"Oh really?"

"Oh yes, that made him very, very happy. He still hates the rain, but he accepts that while it's never sunny when he is around, at least he is ridiculously rich."

"Ah, well, I guess that's all that matters, eh?"

"Well, Mum thinks otherwise, but at least he's happy."

"So, is your Dad on this flight, causing all this rain?"

"No, but his luck with rain has seemingly rubbed off on me, you see. Can't go anywhere without it following me." Jeremy sighed wistfully. "I just love the sound of raindrops against the windows and the walls. It's as soothing as a cherubic chorus!"

As a strong gust of wind shook the plane, Arthur sunk in his seat and grabbed at his Bloody Mary, picking an idle peanut out of the mix. It was going to be a frustratingly long rest of the flight to Japan, regardless of how short the remainder was.

**(Elsewhere...)**

Though no sirens were being sounded, a hurricane was currently tearing through part of Tokyo-3. The hurricane was named Asuka Langely Soryu, and the eye of the storm was situated over the apartment she shared with her guardian Misato Katsuragi and her co-woker Shinji Ikari. Her anger seemed limitless, so much so that her classmates had dubbed her the Red Devil, both a jab at her red hair and her German heritage. Interestingly, Asuka's anger was directly connected to hunger, something she only experienced when Shinji Ikari was not cooking, which was a rare occurrence. (This is only a rare occurrence because Shinji Ikari is Shinji Ikari. Lab rats have more ambition than he does.) Her guardian had tried to sedate her with her attempt at cooking, which only served to make her more enraged. Which is completely understandable, as Ms. Katsuragi's own best friend wrote her doctoral thesis on how her cooking constituted a weapon of mass destruction that violated several international arms treaties.

"Damn it Misato!" yelled Asuka, stomping her feet. "Where is that pathetic excuse for a pilot and a man? I'm starving!"

Misato cracked open her third beer of the evening as if it was a precious package and chugged it like a water-starved crash survivor. "Ayeaaaaaaaaah!"

"Misato!"

"Oh, well, Section-2 said that they last saw Shinji with Kaji. So they're probably doing guy stuff."

"Guy stuff? He needs to be here, cooking my dinner!" Asuka threw up her hands. "Worst of all he's spending time with _my _Kaji!"

"Relax. He'll be back eventually. Maybe we should just order take-out."

"No! It was the Baka's turn to cook! And he damn well better do it, too!"

Emerging from his fridge, Pen-Pen waddled over to Misato's fridge to get himself some cold brewed, fermented, frothy goodness. Curiously enough, everyone mistook Pen-Pen's warks and squaks as mere grunts from a lower lifeform. But due to his genetic alterations, Pen-Pen was smarter than the average bear, so to speak.

"Stupid pervert penguin!" barked Asuka as Pen-Pen brushed against her leg on the way to his fermented refreshment.

"Wark!" said the penguin in indignation, which translates to; (_Stupid girl, I smell fish about you one time and you can't let it go._) Grabbing a beer and using his beak as a tool to open his can, Pen-Pen used his flippers to insert the can in his beak and gradually leaned back, drinking the can dry. Yes, artificial evolution due to humanity mucking about is truly a beautiful thing.

"Oh leave my poor little Pen-Pen alone, Asuka." Misato chided. "He's just a penguin, it's not right to punish him for what Shinji hasn't done."

"It's not right that I'm sitting here wasting away while Shinji spends time with my man, no less!"

"Oh please, Ryoji Kaji is a lot of things, a hell of a lot of things, but he isn't a lolicon. That much credit has to given, I suppose."

"Of course he isn't!" spat Asuka. "That's why he is more than willing to have a taste of these goodies, with the proper persuasion."

One spittake later, Misato was in a semi-drunken fit of laughter on the floor. "My dear Asuka, you have absolutely no clue how to properly persuade a man."

"Really now? What about the Baka?"

"Shinji doesn't count." Misato came back up to a kneeling position. "Besides, we're talking about things in a sensual sense, not in a domineering sense. Though I suppose if your into defying sex laws, I'm sure those two could be connected..."

There are few things that make Asuka Langely Soryu madder than an insult, real or imagined, to her ability. In fact, if she existed in a dimension than the one she does, it's possible Asuka would be a being composed entirely of pride in a solid, corporeal state. Because her pride had been somehow tarnished by Misato's jab at her abilities, Asuka let her mouth engage before her mind, (which her talent at is unparalleled.) and blurted out a defiant challenge before thinking things through.

"Alright Misato, I bet you a month's worth of my NERV pay that I can persuade Kaji to take me the next time I see him."

Had Asuka engaged her mind, she might have had the vaguest inkling that maybe the universe was just a tad bit too improbable to work in her favor this time.

--  
(**Author's Notes**: Yeah... sorry about that, I had a bit of the error with the second chapter, so if you got an alert, yeah... The second one is for real. Some stuff might seem like it dragged on in this bit but I think that Jeremy McKenna had to be there, you know? The next chapter hopefully will flow out better than this one did in development. I think readers can start drawing ideas about the coming stuff in Chapter Three if you look real hard. So... please tell me what you think and I'll try to fix any problems as best as I can in the next update. Also check out the open discussion forums for The Angel of Doubt coming soon! Thanks for reading.)


	3. Chapter Three

**The Angel of Doubt**

**Chapter Three**

In a stark contrast to Heathrow, Tokyo-3 International Airport remained constantly busier than most would have though possible in the years following Second Impact, thanks mostly to the comings and goings of the organization known as NERV. It was also a great deal smaller than Heathrow, as well as one of the only semi-civilian airports left in existence following the last series of wars to be heavily guarded with Anti-Aircraft defenses. All and all a warming and welcoming place, the main concourse of the airport was adorned with plants and couches and attractive women to greet weary travelers and helpful multi-lingual signs to the airport bar that simply read "The booze flows from here." in seven different languages, followed by a helpful arrow. All in all, Arthur Dent figured this was probably the most warm and welcoming airport he had ever been in. The train of thought, however, led to a conclusion Arthur would have rather not reached. As he walked rather lazily through the airport concourse, Arthur keep feeling a nagging little itch in the back of his mind that told him something was amiss about this situation. The further he got from his departure terminal, the greater the itch became. Finally, it hit him like a proverbial ton of bricks.

"BUGGER ME!" shouted Arthur at the top of his lungs, slapping his forehead in frustration. "I have no idea where to find Ford!"

Yes, despite being a relative veteran of intergalactic hitchhiking, with nothing to go on but the obviously manufactured alias of "F.P. Kaji" on the envelopes he was sent, Arthur had no clue how to find Ford. Even if "F.P. Kaji" wasn't an alias and was indeed an actual person, the previously forgotten specter of the language barrier came flooding back to the forefront of Arthur's mind. This was, alas, yet another rash decision in a long string of rash decisions that usually sprung up around Arthur's good friend Ford. With hope draining from his heart as he resigned himself to the impasse he had arrived at, Arthur sighed and slinked away towards one of the many couches that dotted the concourse like small, comfortable islands in a sea of confusion. He also failed to notice he had a companion on the proverbial island he had marooned himself on. Next to him sat a teenage girl with light blue hair, wearing what he assumed as a school uniform, (as it fit in with all the whispers he had heard about what got the men of this country excited) furiously writing in a notebook. She didn't seem to take notice of Arthur's presence, but Arthur took note of the one feature of hers that struck him as odd, her blood red eyes. While certainly an unusual color on Earth, Arthur had seen many strange eye pigments in his travels, most curious to him being a group of humanoids he had encountered with stark white eyes that claimed to be able to see three hundred and sixty degrees with them. (Though for all their talk, the only creatures with three hundred and sixty degree vision that Arthur knew of lived in a cave on a planet locked almost entirely in perpetual nighttime.) The possibility that this teenager next to him was not from Earth danced around inside Arthur's head, but he didn't think he could ask without looking insane. The girl would probably call the police if he tried to ask her something along the lines of "_Hey there, I couldn't help but notice your eyes are red. Are you an alien or did you just hit your head on the deep end of the gene pool?_" However, Arthur wouldn't have to worry about breaking the ice this time.

"I would like to thank you, sir." said the blue haired girl in a quiet monotone.

"Pardon?" asked Arthur, not noticing his babel fish had translated the girl's native tongue. "Why are you thanking me?"

"Is it not customary to offer thanks to someone when they have rendered you a service?"

"Wait... you speak English?" Arthur asked, his human genealogy causing him to state the obvious.

"I am fluent in five languages." replied the girl, her tone changing ever so slightly, as if to convey annoyance. "Correct me if I am wrong, but is it not considered impolite to answer a person's question with one of your own, completely dodging the original question?"

Arthur furrowed his brow. "Yes, to both your questions, actually. But... still, what have I done for you?"

"You have given me inspiration, and for that I thank you. It is not often my subjects come close. I generally only see them from a far."

Arthur again noticed her notebook. "So... you drew a sketch of me?"

"No, I have been writing poetry. As of late, I cannot resist the urge to do so."

"P..p..poetry, eh?" asked Arthur as a shiver went down his spine, recalling briefly past experiences.

"Would you like to hear some?"

"No! No... that's okay, I'll pass. I'm terribly jet lagged and I can never listen to poetry while I'm jet lagged. No appreciation for the arts with a headache, you know?"

"Hmm..." was all Rei said, apparently deep in thought. "I need a title. What is your name?

"My name is Arthur Dent. How about you?"

"I am called Rei Ayanami." Rei scribbled something in her notebook. "There, _Arthur and the Airport_. That is what it shall be called."

"Rather fitting title, isn't it?"

"Indeed." Rei paused and looked at Arthur. "Is it possible that you will sign the back of the poem, so others will know that this poem is about Arthur Dent?"

"Of course!" Arthur said with a smile. He took the offered paper and pen and scribbled _"Arthur Philip Dent"_ in a script that some doctors would have a problem reading. "There you are, Arthur Philip Dent. Now you have my John Hancock, as the yanks would say."

"I do not understand, who is John Hancock?"

"Er... um... He's just this guy, you know?" stuttered Arthur, moving to hand Rei her pen back. It was at this point that the fabric of the Universe decided to have a little bit of a hiccup, causing Rei's black ink pen to shatter in her lap, covering her school uniform in splotches that would have confused Hermann Rorshach himself. "Oh, damn it all!"

Rei looked impassively from her ruined uniform to the ink dripping off Arthur's hand and back again. Red eyes met brown as Rei, unsurprisingly, was at a loss for words.

Quickly trying to alleviate his guilt, Arthur looked at the notebook still in his lap. "Well... at least the poetry is safe. Right?"

"Ink does not wash out easily, does it?"

Arthur shook his head. "Not so much, no..."

"I see..."

The proverbial lightbulb went off as Arthur noticed his rather convenient proximity to the Duty Free shop. "Listen, wait right here... I'm going to go wash up and to make it up to you I'm going to buy you something new to wear home, at least." he cracked a small smile. "Can't get the boys to listen to your poetry if you look like you just fought a copy machine!" Arthur wasn't exactly sure that Rei was the kind of person who wanted to attract boys, but the adrenaline his brain was pumping into his body told him that this avenue of flattery would perhaps stop Rei from getting him thrown into a foreign jail cell less than ten minutes after arriving in the country.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has this to say about Adrenaline. _Epinephrine, more commonly known as adrenaline, is a hormone found in the nervous systems of various humanoid species, most notably Homo sapiens, that controls a fight or flight reaction. Adrenaline is usually released in response to moments of stress or surprise to the being in question, to prepare the body for an emergency situation by suppressing the immune system and reportedly, blocking some pain receptors. It should be noted that a chemical with a similar effect is secreted during arousal and consequent sexual gratification. This being said, most species that have adrenaline have a sub-set of it's population that has been dubbed "adrenaline junkies" by some, who go about putting themselves in dangerous situations for the orgasm like high they feel. Most sane individuals would find this utterly crazy because it's much safer and cheaper to just have a romp in the sack. It should also be noted that adrenaline has an effect on the mind, and can often lead to extreme knee jerk reactions to situations that almost never required the kind of immediate response they received, for this response is usually the exact opposite of what should have been done._

Rei just looked on impassively as she silently waited for Arthur to return. Normally she would just go home as is and not worry, but she had been told to wait, and she was not about to disobey an order, even if it was from a strange man who somehow made her stomach feel slightly warmer deep down in the pit, much to her confusion. A thought crossed her mind and a new idea was birthed in the annuls of Rei Ayanami's mind, a new poem that she at the moment could not jot down, thanks to her wearing her weapon of choice. Idle thoughts and silhouettes of ideas danced inside Rei's mind like any sort of wispy, wistful imagery, probably clouds or something of the like. One of these small wisps begged the question why the strange foreigner Arthur Dent had suddenly become what she had heard referred to as a "muse", seemingly invading her creative conscious and putting down roots in the back of her mind, as if he fully intended to stay awhile, perhaps long after dinner had passed. Rei resolved that she would seek out help in deciphering just what this all meant. Her wispy, cloud-like thoughts were pushed aside however, as Arthur came jogging back carrying a large bag.

"Oh good! You're still here." panted Arthur, desperately trying to catch his breath. He placed the bag on next to Rei on the airport couch. "Right... well, I kind of just guessed sizes as best as I could... There is a shirt, undershirt short pants, belt and a uh, free pair of sunglasses thrown in there by the store clerk. Seems I caught a package deal of sorts." Arthur rubbed the back of his head. "I had a teenage daughter once, you see... Never really got the chance to..." He found himself talking to thin air as he saw the retreating form of Rei heading to the Women's Restrooms, presumably to change, and not call the authorities, something Arthur silently dreaded.

As he anxiously waited for Rei to return, Arthur's thoughts drifted to his daughter Random, who was almost the polar opposite of what Rei appeared to be. While Random was brash, rebellious and all in all disillusioned with life and the universe, Rei seemed to be quiet, stoic and more obedient than a trained poodle, as evidenced by her lack of running off, staying put when told. Arthur harbored few regrets, he figured, about his life, but the fact that he felt he somehow could have done better for Random, despite not even knowing she existed, stuck with him. Putting these thoughts side, out of the corner of his eye he saw the returning form of Rei Ayanami, and he could not hold back his awkward cough. The blue haired teen approached him, wearing a bright two-tone blue and purple Hawaiian shirt with a white undershirt and tan cargo shorts, and a simple leather belt holding said pants up. Still wearing her standard issue school socks and shoes, she cut a rather odd figure, topped off by the free pair of blue tinted, thin rimmed sunglasses that gave her eyes a purple color.

"Er, hello, Rei. How does everything fit?"

"It is adequate." replied Rei, as she set the bag containing her soiled clothes down on the couch. "Though this gesture was entirely unnecessary."

Arthur blinked at her reply and looked her over again. "I don't think so. I ruined your clothes, I got you some replacements. Granted, this isn't as swanky and posh as it could be, but they were bought at a Duty Free store, mind you." He cleared his throat. "Besides, it's a huge improvement. It gives you a look more fitting of a person with the uh.... Soul of a poet, so to speak."

If anyone else who had known Rei for longer than half a day where present, they'd surely believe the world had stopped. Rei was blushing ever so slightly, which highlighted her pale skin. "Thank you, Mr. Dent..." Her blush faded and the conversation fell dead in the air like a trapeze artist that had suffered a sudden and fatal heart attack.

"Well... I suppose I should be going, Rei." said Arthur, breaking the silence. "I have to track down Ford, or F.P. Kaji or whatever the bloody hell he is calling himself these days..."

"I know a Kaji."

"Pardon?"

"I happen to know a Kaji, perhaps he can provide information on the one you are looking for."

Arthur, ever the Englishman, objected as quick as he could. "No, I couldn't possibly impose."

"I have nothing scheduled. You will not inconvenience me."

Purple tinted eyes met Brown and Arthur smiled. "If you are certain, then I thank you. Lead the way."

And so the odd couple of the six-foot plus tall, towering foreigner and the slender, oddly dressed, blue haired teen departed Tokyo-3 International Airport with nothing but his luggage, her poetry, and the promise of possibly helping Arthur Dent finally meet up with his estranged friend Ford Prefect and perhaps, finally learn just what was up with the test results in the envelope he had received.

**(Elsewhere, on the other side of Tokyo-3)**

Ford and Shinji were currently in what seemed to be the latest in a endless series of elevators, this time on their way to Shinji's apartment, the domicile he shared with Asuka, Misato and Pen-pen. Shinji absently shuddered at the thought of the familiar scenario looming ahead of him. Asuka was going to be pissed, which was par for course, but she was also hungry. These two things coupled together meant he might as well prepare the ice packs now. He had heard Misato say that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, and he figured it was pretty much the same thing with Asuka. Not that Shinji would ever dare compare her to a man, mind you. Despite his rather bleak outlook on things, Shinji nevertheless liked being alive quite a lot.

"Shinji, I need to ask you a favor." said Ford, stroking his chin.

"Yes Ford? What is it?"

"Call me Kaji while around Misato and Asuka."

"Why?"

"It's to keep up appearances." he popped a breath mint into his mouth, giving one to Shinji. "It's a lot easier for them to not know what is going on."

"I see..." Shinji sighed. "I'm not even sure what is going on, anymore."

"Ah, yes, don't worry about that. You're fine."

"Am I now?"

"Yes, Shinji." said Ford as reassuringly as he possibly could muster, putting a hand on Shinji's shoulder. "Everything is cool and froody, you just have to follow my lead."

"Why do I get the feeling this isn't going to end well?"

"Stop worrying so much! You gotta learn to let go once in a while. My god man! Where's your sense of adventure?"

The elevator dinged open to reveal the familiar sight of Shinji's home floor. Ford added bit more of a swagger to his step that he was accustomed to doing while acting the part of Kaji. Shinji just swallowed his mostly dissolved breath mint, whispering a silent prayer to anyone who'd listen that Asuka was going to be in a good enough mood by seeing Kaji that she might just forget to beat him senseless. Or at the very least, was delayed in doing so. And so they went, Ford swaggering confidently down the hall, with Shinji sulking behind, his eyes fixed to the floor in a way that only years of emotional distance could possibly imbue. As they drew nearer to the apartment door, both fully expected to hear the rage of a certain red-haired girl, but surprisingly, things were mostly quiet. Nothing to indicate a massive existence failure on the horizon for Shinji, and nothing to indicate a rabid fan girl attack for Ford. Neither knew, however, if this false sense of security would hold up when Ford reached to ring the doorbell. Only to be interrupted by Shinji.

"Wait, why are you ringing the doorbell? I have a key."

"No you don't." Ford said, giving Shinji a slight wink, the gesture completely lost on the boy. "You've forgotten it."

"No I haven't, it's right here in my pocket!"

"No it isn't, and please, notice the wink this time." Ford winked again. "You haven't got your key. What do I have to do, a bloody Jedi hand wave?" he sighed. "You are nowhere near equipped to deal with this situation. I however, am. So please, once again, follow my lead."

"Alright, I'll do my best."

"That's the spirit. Now, just act casual." Ford reached up and pressed the doorbell button, letting loose a chorus of bells and chimes, alerting all inside that they had a visitor.

A muffled yell from beyond the threshold responded to the doorbell, accompanied by the stomping of feet. Coincidently, Shinji felt a familiar bit of fear swell up from his stomach as the footsteps grew nearer. Suddenly the door slid open, revealing a flash of red hair and anger that could only belong to one person.

"Idiot, did you forget your key again!?" barked Asuka, who was attempting to stare a hole right through her fellow pilot. "I shudder to think that I am going into battle with you backing me up! Why I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot how to deploy an A.T. Field or fire the pallet rifle! You are lucky I am the best pilot NERV has or the world really would come to an end!"

"Lecturing again there, Professor?" asked Ford, cocking his trademark Kaji smile. "I wasn't aware that a lecture on the Ego was on the syllabus for today."

Asuka took a deep breath, immediately letting any and all traces of anger fall from her face and back into the deep pits of her body she kept all those pesky little emotions bottled up in, and flashed the best smile she was able to on such short notice. "KAJI! I didn't expect to see you here! Please, come in and make yourself comfortable!" Asuka turned her head quickly to glare daggers at Shinji as he was ushered in behind Ford. To further drive her point home, she quietly growled, "We will finish discussing why I was forced to eat Misato's cooking later." as he passed by.

Just beyond the threshold of the apartment and into the kitchen, Misato sat at the table, twirling a pair of chopsticks around with her fingers, eyeballing an apparently uneaten meal of instant ramen. "Asuka, are you sure you aren't going to finish your dinner?"

"If you feel your body can handle the punishment that is dished out by that failed attempt to pass raw sewage off as food, then by all means, by my guest." Asuka grumbled, quickly shifting her mood back to cheerful. "Besides, I have to watch my figure, so I can look my best for Kaji!"

Misato turned her head and smiled what she thought was her most devious smile, or at least the most devious smile she could get away with outside of the bedroom, when she observed Asuka with Ford and Shinji. "Of course you do, I'd hate for you to somehow fail to get his attention..." She let the last word fall dead, fully intending to let the weight of her sentence remind Asuka of her previous boasting, and the little matter of her betting her entire next paycheck on her ability to seduce Ryoji Kaji.

It didn't take her college education for Asuka to understand Misato's implications. The universe had sneezed and her path had crossed with Kaji's, and there was no time like the present. It is now or never, do or die. In truth, Asuka didn't know much about seduction, not that she would ever admit that she didn't know something, her pride would not allow that. While she did not know seduction, Asuka did know what she had read in text books back in Berlin, and that is what she would base her attack on. "You know Kaji, it really is good to see you again. You never come around anymore..."

"Yeah... About that." replied Ford, sitting down at the table across from Misato. "The Commander has had me running to and fro, you see. Been terribly busy."

"It's almost as if you don't want to get to know me any better than just little old Asuka." On that note, Asuka stretched her arms above her head, pushing her breasts slightly together, accentuating them in a manner she found very sexy. If she had been paying attention she would have found that Shinji found this very sexy too, and that Ford wasn't even paying attention.

"No no, I never said that." Ford leaned slightly over the table, reaching for Misato's open can of beer. "I'm sure there are a great number of things that you have improved upon about yourself."

"Hey!" Misato shouted, slapping Ford's hand away from her beer. "Get your own! I don't recall this Yebisu being for you."

"Ah yes, but I wanted that one. So as to share an indirect kiss with a beautiful woman."

"You know, that reminds me of something I once did a paper on in college, Kaji." Asuka sighed contentedly, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "Research shows that the best way to get to know someone is through kissing them. There is all sorts of emotion and communication through such a simple gesture, it's easy to tell what kind of person your partner is simply by kissing them."

"Ahh kissing, the Gateway Drug of Sexuality." sighed Misato, failing to hide a rather unladylike burp.

"Ah. That is interesting." Ford smiled, then quickly shot a wink at Shinji. "Don't you think so, Shinji?" He nodded dumbly, trying not to anger the beast, so to speak. "Still not sure I follow, though."

"Are you saying you don't want to get to know me better?" Asuka formed her face into the best pout she could muster. "I'm hurt, Kaji."

"Oh what the hell, what could one kiss hurt?"

Asuka's heart skipped a beat, her body yelling silently in triumph. She had won the bet! "Yes! In your face Misato!"

"Ryoji Kaji!" barked Misato as she watched Ford get up from the table. "You really have stooped low, haven't you?"

"Relax, Misato. It'll be good for her, trust me. Better from me than some sex pervert..." He flashed Misato a smile and hoped she would catch on. "Now, Asuka, I also recall reading some of this research, and it stated that you get to know someone better by keeping your eyes closed, so as to get to know the person without any presumptions."

Asuka nodded her head and closed her eyes, as she leaned back against the kitchen wall. "I'm ready when you are, Kaji."

Ford walked over to Shinji and gently grabbed him by both his shoulders, leaning in and whispering "_Follow my lead, yeah?_". He then lead him over to Asuka as best as he could. "Just a second, Asuka, I have to make sure that Misato is witness to this, just to say you finally reached that landmark in your young life." He noticed Misato had produced a Polaroid camera from a drawer and was focused on the pending spectacle. At that, Ford couldn't help but smile. "Ah right then, here I come."

Asuka actually shuddered with anticipation, this truthfully being her first kiss. It was a win-win in her book, getting her first kiss from the object of her affection and winning a month's worth of Misato's NERV pay. Or at least, she assumed she would have it, because kissing would have to lead to sex at some point, right? After what seemed like an unending eternity, she felt a pair of lips meet hers, setting off a torrent of sensations and a feeling of total warmth all over her body. The only thing Asuka's mind could form into a sentence was "_Mein Gott! His lips taste slightly minty and salty! And who knew Kaji's face was so soft!_" It took a split second for her to fully assess what bothered her about the statement hanging in her mind. "_Wait a minute? SOFT?_" Asuka's eyes shot open in an instant to see the face of Shinji Ikari connected to hers, Ford standing behind him grinning like a madman and Misato behind both of them shaking a developing Polaroid snapshot. She pushed Shinji backward and into Ford's arms, and bolted to the other side of the Kitchen.

"Ha ha! Way to go Shin-chan!" cheered Misato. "Oh, Asuka... It looks like you lost our bet. But don't fret, I'm sure Shinji would be more than happy to comfort you!"

Asuka pointed a wild finger at Ford, in the universal sign of accusation. "You... YOU TRICKED ME! BASTARD!"

"Yeah... I guess I did. But don't you feel better now that you've gotten to know Shinji better?"

Asuka turned her rage filled eyes toward the boy who was still leaning up against Ford, obviously shell shocked from what happened. "That isn't the point! The point is that Shinji-baka just cost me an entire month's pay!" She stormed straight for him just as he got back on his own two feet, and punched him through a surprisingly thin wall, which the Japanese are inexplicably fond of using in home construction. "DIE!" Turning back to Ford, she glared once again. "You're lucky I'm the forgiving type, Kaji! You could have broke my heart!" And with that, Asuka stomped off to her room and slammed the door.

"Ah... Kids. Remind you of anyone, Misato?"

"Don't think one brilliantly executed prank is going to get you out of the dog house, Kaji."

"Who, me? I'd never think that!" he laughed heartily. "Oh, and while we're on the subject, I'm supposed to inform you that Shinji is going to be coming with me for a few days on official NERV business. So, you'll be down to just Asuka and Rei for your Angel stomping needs."

"What?!" blurted Misato, spraying beer all over her table. "Why? On who's orders?"

"I have clearance from the Sub-Commander, so it's all kosher."

"How come I haven't been told about this?"

"You just where, actually..."

Misato sent an empty can of Yebisu whizzing past Ford's head. "Can it smart-ass! Just tell me where the hell are you going anyway?"

"That isn't important, you just have to trust me."

"The hell it isn't important! Why should I trust you anyway?"

"Three words: Large-Mouthed Bass."

Curiously enough, Large-Mouthed Bass was exactly what Misato looked like as she gaped at the mention of the move that, unbeknown to her, was quietly making her famous in certain circles in the Universe. "So you're going to blackmail me with that, eh? Fine then. I'll let it go."

It would be a good time to note that The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has this to say about blackmail. _Blackmail is perhaps the most widely accepted business practice in the known Universe. While blackmail gets a sort of bum-rap from many places, if you are involved in anyway with politics or business you almost have to blackmail to get ahead. In one sector in the Crab Nebula, an entire secondary economy is based on how well you can blackmail those around you. While generally more accepted than outright extortion, in some places in the universe, you can still be punished in some rather painful and deadly ways for blackmailing someone. So use with caution._

"I'm glad you see things my way." Ford cleared his throat. "Shinji! When you get a chance, pack a bag and then we'll have to be off."

A groan came from the Shinji-sized hole in the wall as the poor boy pulled himself back into the kitchen and onto his feet. "Argh... Did Asuka just punch me?"

"Yes, yes she did." replied Ford solemnly. "But hey, on the bright side, you've taken your first step to manhood. I'm proud of you."

"I don't think Asuka liked it too much..."

"Nonsense, she enjoyed it more than you know. After we get back from our trip you'll see her point of view will have changed."

"If you say so..."

"I just did, didn't I? Now go on and get a bag packed, we've got a ride to hitch."

Shinji nodded and sort of half-limped toward his room, causing Misato to redouble her efforts in objecting to Ford's scheme. "Shinji isn't in any shape to travel! What is so important he has to come, anyway?"

Ford simply chose to ignore Misato's latest inquiry, mainly because, as fate would have it, his cell phone rang. "Kaji's phone, how can I help you?" He paused slightly. "... Rei? How are you? You're kind of the last person I'd expect to hear from." Ford's eyebrows shot up slightly. "Do I know an F.P. Kaji?" He looked over his shoulder at a leering Misato. "Yeah... I do, actually. Listen, is there someone with you? Okay, meet me at the Bridge by the Train Station in one hour." He clipped his phone shut and dropped it in his pocket.

"Rei, huh? What exactly are you doing with the First Child?"

"Nothing, really, it's the Man she's with that I'm interested in."

"WHAT?!"

"Yeah, old friend of mine from England, she happened to run into him at the airport."

"What was she doing there?"

Ford shrugged. "Beats me. You should probably ask Section-2" He noticed that Shinji had come back out of his room with a backpack slung over his shoulders. "Hey... ready to go? We've got some people to meet." Shinji nodded. "Alright then, say goodbye to Misato, maybe you should give her a goodbye kiss, you will be gone a few days."

"KAJI!" snapped Misato, who then did a personality flip and smiled sweetly at her charge. "Take care, Shinji. I'll see you when you get back."

"Bye, Misato." Shinji blushed slightly. "And... please say goodbye to Asuka for me as well. I... don't think she'll be too happy to see me right now."

Before Misato could answer, Ford clicked his heels together and pushed Shinji towards the door. "Well then, we've got to be off. I'll catch you later, beautiful! Light a candle for your wayward lover and wayward son!"

With the closing of the door, Misato slumped back into her seat and nursed her open can of beer. She thought back to her days in college and the actual first time she had met Ryoji Kaji and realized that it bore a striking similarity to the somewhat mysterious and random way he had arranged for this sudden and unexpected trip. She eventually reached the conclusion that she really didn't understand her former paramour, but all the same there was still something there that she couldn't quite place her hand on. He just seemed so out there, as if he was completely foreign. Shrugging it all off, Misato put her thoughts out of mind and got up to go tell Asuka that she would have endure her cooking for a few more days.

**(An hour later, at the bridge...)**

Shinji and Ford had made the journey from the apartment to the bridge with nary a word spoke between them, which seemed like it was quickly becoming the norm for the two of them. Finally, Shinji found something to say, which turned out to be, to Ford's utter lack of shock, a question.

"Ford, you still haven't told me where we are going."

"I told you, to see a very old man about some very old computer coding."

"Yes, but why?"

"Why not? If we don't do it, who will?

Shinji sighed. "I don't know..."

"You see, easy as that." Ford coughed. "Well, first off we have to go see Rei. She has someone with her I very much need to see."

"Who would that be?"

"Friend of mine, you'll love him. If you weren't so Marvin-esque all the time, you'd remind me a lot of him." Ford came to a stop and looked across the bridge. "Ah, I think that's them over there." He waved his hands in the air so as to draw attention to himself. "Oi! Over here!"

Two figures walked over the bridge toward Ford and Shinji, the two striking a rather odd profile, seeing as one was almost two feet taller than the other. One the left was a man that Shinji had never seen before, obviously Ford's friend and on the right was a girl he swore couldn't have been Rei, yet the hair color was a dead giveaway. In his mind, there was no way that he could ever picture Rei in a brightly colored Hawaiian short, shorts and tinted sunglasses but there it was right in front of him. She looked more like the bastard child of Jimmy Buffet than the pilot of Unit-00.

"Pilot Ikari, it is good to see you again." said Rei as she walked up to him.

"Er... hello, Rei." was all that Shinji could manage, as he was still in shock from seeing his comrade dressed so outrageously.

The man beside her spoke up as he eyed Ford with an odd look. "You can't possibly be Ford Prefect, you look all wrong."

"What a terrible thing to say about a friend, Arthur." laughed Ford as he ran up and gave Arthur a sort of glomping-hug. "Though you have changed yourself. Much younger, good for you!"

"Who's your companion over here?" asked Arthur, pointing to Shinji. "Did you finally settle down and have yourself a child?"

"Heaven's no! No, that's just my latest project." Ford went over to Shinji and put a hand on his head. "Arthur Dent, meet Shinji Ikari."

"Is he the one you were telling me about?"

"No... But we'll get to that in due time. First things first, we are going to Norway."

---  
**Author's Note**: There we have it, Chapter Three of The Angel of Doubt. I'm being a little bit ambigious about a lot of things, but I think you'll all be pleasantly surprised when I finally get around to the big news in the next couple of chapters. Oh, and there will be Zaphod, too. I intended to have this chapter done sooner, but I got caught up in trying to fit things together just right, I'm a bit of an anal retentive person like that, I suppose. My next task is to update Triumvirate, but I hope it won't be a huge wait for the next chapter of The Angel of Doubt just the same. I really do love writing this story. Well, I'm gonna cut this short, I put a new blog on my website, which is linked on my profile page so check there for updates in the coming months and stuff. So till next time, enjoy!


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